


Hell and Heaven (Casifer/Dean Winchester) (Castiel/Dean Winchester) (Destiel) (Gabriel)

by charlies_secret_closet (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Plot, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Casifer, Casifer sex, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Consensual Sex, Dean Winchester/Gabriel - Freeform, Dean/Gabriel - Freeform, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel romance, Dirty Talk, Gabriel - Freeform, Gay Sex, Hurt Dean Winchester, I have stayed up way too late working on this, Kinky, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Some Plot, Sub Dean, Submissive Dean, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Torture, When you surprise yourself by writing something so dark, casdean - Freeform, debriel, destiel sex, destiel smut, sex dungeon, that awkward moment when your parents think you’re innocent, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/charlies_secret_closet
Summary: ... “ Lucifer allowed dean to regain his breathing, then bent down to whisper in deans ear. “I’ll bet you wish you could do this with the real Castiel, don’t you? You wish you could feel him inside you... don’t you Dean Winchester?” ...A hole in the cage allows Lucifer to put his shape shifting abilities to good use... this time on Dean.Will the Devil’s horrifying intentions put an end to Dean’s friendship with Castiel, or will it begin something new...With the help of Sam—who is once again hiding something—and Gabriel— who is keeping his own secrets regarding the oldest Winchester— Dean makes plans to face down his torturer, while simultaneously figuring out a new and confusing relationship.Lotsa smut. Lotsa kinky shit. And a decent plot.
Relationships: Castiel/Lucifer/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Gabriel/Dean Winchester, Lucifer/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Lucifer
Comments: 67
Kudos: 94





	1. Hell

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: EXTREME DEPICTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON ELEMENTS. 
> 
> Yeah so... there’s somethin’ about Casifer that really gets my kinky side going. This is my first fic. Got a lot of my inspiration from “Three Birds, One Stone” fic on this site. 
> 
> If you’re into this stuff, check it out!! It’s incredible! 
> 
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED 
> 
> also: I am sorry. But I’m not ashamed ;)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Dean woke bathed in cold sweat. The first thing he realized was that his hands were tied above his head, shackled to the end of a table, his feet spread-eagled and shackled to the corners. The room was dark, lit by torches but otherwise completely unadorned, black emptiness drifting on either side. It looked like every other torture chamber he had ever been in. Somehow, this knowledge comforted him. Torture he could cope with. 

Oh. And he was naked. 

Son of a bitch. 

“Hello Dean.” 

He knew that voice anywhere. 

“Cas?” Deans voice was ragged. How long had he been down here? Where was Sammy? 

“What the hell are you doing here, Cas? Why am I naked?” 

He shook the chains, pulling, but they were too strong. The clanks echoed around the room, then faded. Cas laughed. 

But dean would know Cas’s laughter anywhere. It was the kind of laughter that made Dean smile, one of the few things that could ever make Dean smile. Sometimes, it sounded like the laughter of a child, usually after Cas had found a new insect to marvel at. Sometimes it wasn’t laughter at all, but the small quirky smile, when Dean would tell a joke or make a reference that Cas actually understood. 

And so, when Castiel’s head emerged from the shadows, a manic sly grin stretching across the tilted face, baby-blue eyes turned almost black with shadows, Dean knew without a doubt that whoever this was, it wasn’t Cas. 

The doppleganger lifted his eyebrows and shrugged in an almost adorable manner, giving Dean a joking smirk. “I’m home, honey. Miss me?” 

So un-Cas-like. And the way he said his name... it wasn’t soft or consoling, or scolding or angry or any of the ways Cas usually spoke the older Winchester’s name. 

This was condescending. Manipulative. Mocking. 

Dean was the one who smirked now. Whoever this monster was, he obviously did not think Dean was close enough to Cas to notice the difference. 

That would be its last mistake. 

But then “Cas” stepped from the shadows , and leaned absentmindedly against the wall, chewing on his left thumb. All anger left Dean’s straining arms. 

Cas. Was naked. 

It was the first time Dean had ever seen his angel fully naked. Sure, he’d seen him covered in bees once, with no clothes on underneath, but the bees had (unfortunately) covered everything. 

Dean glared and tried to look away. He really did try. But dean was never one to ignore sexy. And dammit, Cas was the most beautiful specimen of sexy that Dean had ever seen. 

The monster grinned again, a slow cock-eyed grin that looked far too good on Cas’s tilted face. It looked almost predatory. 

Cas smiled and threw a few punches at the air, pretending to box.

“Mm! Lil bro Cassie’s got some fight in him!” 

He walked a few paces around the room, swinging his arms as if warming up for a fight. 

Dean knew who this was, without a doubt. But it wasn’t possible. Lucifer was in the cage, wasn’t he? Yes he had possessed Cas once, but that was over. This had to be a nightmare or an illusion. If Lucifer was back, for real, things were about to get messy. 

Dean twisted his head to face the ceiling. “Lucifer, huh. Thought we ended you”

The devil paused and wiggled one finger through a crack in the wall, as if he had all the time in the world to pick at plaster.

He blew a flake off one finger, and casually ambled over to Dean’s body. “You remembered! I’m touched, really. How’s that brother of yours? Still a stresshead?”

“How’s that family of yours? Still hate you?” Dean retorted 

‘Cas’ sighed and pushed one hand through Deans hair, twisting and tangling the ends with a casual sensuality, making the hunter squirm beneath his touch.

Dean hated to admit that he was turned on. So his body did the talking for him. A hot pounding sensation crept through his belly, down into his now hardening cock.

“Aw dean... “ the devil touched his chest and made a downward U with his mouth. “looks like ya did miss me after all.” 

Dean grimaced and gritted his teeth. “Son of a bitch!” He looked away and closed his eyes, but Cas’s beautiful blueness blinked in the darkness behind his eyelids, like a remnant of memory glued to his vision. 

This wasn’t how things usually went for Dean Winchester. HE was always the dominant one, the forward one, the flirtatious one. Whenever he felt like sex, be found a girl who also felt like sex, and as of yet, he had never been the one to play submissive. But shit, Cas looked damn good as the lead player.

But this wasn’t Cas. Not Cas. Dean’s urges faded, and his survival kicked in. Save the daydreams for another day. This asshole wouldn’t get away with impersonating Cas, not if Dean could help it. 

He strained at the chains again, breathing heavily, and grunting, but the chains wouldn’t budge. 

“Aw Dean-o. I like it when you make those sounds.” The impersonator may have failed at Cas’s laugh, but the voice wasn’t far off. 

“Cas” disappeared and and reappeared on the table, straddling Dean’s hips, lean muscles twitching to hold his toned body over Dean’s spread-eagled body. 

Deans breath hitched and his heart began to pound. His head was feeling a bit light. Was he drugged? 

He remembered the time Cas had stared at him so fiercely he had made a jest about getting laid by the last person who looked at him like that. Actually, Dean had meant it as a blatant invitation for sex, but Cas being Cas didn’t understand it that way. 

Dean’s breathing picked up when he thought about Cas fucking him. Although dean would never admit it, he’d always wanted to be the bottom to Cas’s top. Cas was an angel after all. Dean couldn’t count the number of times he had masturbated to this image, Cas hanging over him, ocean eyes intense as always, dark hair falling over his concentrating brows, dripping with sweat as he pounds Dean long into the night, their moans mingling in the darkness.... 

Dean could feel himself going weak under this strange Cas’s hold. His submissive side was already affecting the situation.

Lucifer leaned over Dean’s chest and stared him in the eyes, a smile playing at the edges of his beautiful mouth. “Yeah, I suppose you’ve already figured out that I’m not ALL Cassie.” 

“So I may as well, mm—discontinue the act.” 

Dean saw the glimmer of silver before he felt it. A burning searing slice down the side of his face. An angel blade.

Warm blood trickled down his neck, pooling on the cold table beneath his naked shoulders. This was no dream, the stinging told him. 

But dean had dealt with worse pain. For years he had faced his best friend, every day seeing him, watching the love of his life, his best and most devastating dream, continue to call him “friend” 

There is nothing more painful than staring into the eyes of your soul mate, and knowing he only considers you as a “buddy” 

Lucifer, or this illusion of Lucifer, or whatever this was, couldn’t hurt him any worse than the pain he experienced every damn day. 

Dean laughed and put on what he liked to call his “bitchface.” It was even better when Sam was there and they could “double bitchface” the monster together. 

“Sorry you son of bitch. If you think I’m gonna react to a little flesh wound, you got the wrong guy.” Dean smirked defiantly into the imposters face. 

Casifer grabbed deans throat and shoved backwards, still straddling Deans waist. Dean had to admit, this was the hottest moment he’d ever had, Angel blade or not. 

The fake Cas sighed, tilting his head and arching one dark brow, then drew another bloody river through deans chest, earning an angry cry from the hunter beneath him.

Dean struggled against the chains. He knew it was futile, but who was Dean Winchester if not a stubborn fighter? 

The fake Cas shook his head. “You know what? You’re right Dean.” He absentmindedly scratched another cut across the hunters forehead, like a child scribbling with a crayon in a coloring book. Dean’s breath hitched, his lungs felt like cement, and he closed his eyes so the blood wouldn’t blind him. 

The fake Cas smeared a finger in the growing puddles of blood on the table and dean could hear him sucking it off his fingers.

“Hmm. You’re getting a little excited down there, Dean-o. Got some issues you wanna discuss with me and Cassie here?” 

Dean opened his eyes to see Cas’s face tilted in his usual adorable manner, an mocking smile the only thing amiss. The fake Cas leaned over further and licked the blood off his forehead. Dean could feel the imposters cock brush his stomach, and he felt himself hardening further

Then Cas looked into his eyes and whispered “if I can’t give you physical pain, I can give you emotional pain.” 

Deans smirk faltered. If Lucifer knew Dean, he would know exactly what to say that would hurt him the most, especially if Cas was the one saying it. 

Deans lips parted and the breath left his lungs as Casifer gripped his shoulders with both hands, dropped his hips and began to grind on the hunter beneath him, hips fluidly riding the oldest Winchester, unseen wings giving him unnatural leverage. 

The creature slowed and like a snake, struck a bite into deans arched neck, almost drawing blood. Dean groaned, both with pain and desperate need... a sweet hypnotic need for Cas, HIS Cas, not this cheap version of him. He wondered suddenly if this was what the real Cas felt like, his skin cool, tense and smooth. 

He wondered if he would ever know. 

“Uh— HHH” the shaky sound ripped from Deans mouth his jaw clenched, throat bobbing with each gasp and swallow. 

The doppleganger had relinquished his neck and moved on to a more... sensitive area. 

“Look at you.” Fake-Cas removed his mouth from around Dean’s trembling cock, and contorted his face into a simpering, sickly expression that would never have been worn on the real Cas’s face. “You’d have thought you’ve never been laid before, Dean Winchester. The way you perk right up.” Another simpering smile. “Too easy.” 

The dark haired thing bent down and whispered mockingly into Dean’s ear. “Or is it just because you’ve alwaaays dreamed of this.”  
The creature flicked his tongue out and pulled Dean’s ear with his teeth. 

...”With Castiel.” 

Dean struggled, panting, legs twitching. Their swollen cocks wouldn’t stop rubbing, touching, and it was driving him crazy. An insane feeling he hadn’t felt in ages. He threw his head back in jaw-clenching frustration, breathing thickly. 

Was Lucifer right? Dean had had enough sex in his lifetime to become good at lengthening the process as much as possible before he finished. He was as much of an expert as you could be without starring in porn films. But now... one touch from this fake-Cas, and all his walls came crashing down, one touch was all it would take to come right then and now. 

Was it because he had thought about this, imagined it for so long, needed it, desired it every time he so much as saw his angels face? 

He imagined lying spread eagled beneath that sky-eyed thunderstorm of energy, their fluid rhythm synchronized together, his dark brow focused as always, but instead of stressing about angels and wars and demons, they would think only of each other. Only of the moving man, surrendering to the angel. And they would climax together, their trembling moans would echo around Deans room, and his dark-haired lover would collapse, panting onto Deans beating chest. And though Cas didn’t need to sleep, he would stay there with Dean. And Dean would drift. Peacefully and protected. Watched over. 

Fake-Cas laughed again, stopping his grinding for just long enough to make Dean writhe with desire. Seeing Cas naked had been enough to invoke lust, but having Cas almost ride him in that fluid way that only an angel can, body writhing over his own.. well. That was something else. And that predatory look in those usually soft blue eyes. Dean was beyond turned on. 

He felt guilty, because of course this wasn’t the real Cas. But as long as he could get himself out of this place, Cas need never know about any of this. 

He would never need to know about the fake-Cas plunging his hardened erection into Deans tight entrance, he would never need to know the pain, the burning searing pain due to no preparation, and no moisture. 

He would never need to see Deans held-back tears, hot and desperate, and he would never need to hear his sounds of agony, the guttural deep sounds ripped from his throat as the archangel pounded the life out of Dean, until he was numb to all thoughts, and the shame, the utter shame Dean felt when Lucifer spilled his hot cum inside deans body, spilling out between his thighs. 

Cas would never need to know how Dean moaned then, how Lucifer continued thrusting into Dean’s raw prostrate, using Dean’s own blood mixed with the devils cum as lubricant. 

And how dean finally spilled over himself, his own cum exploding onto his own stomach. And the pain, of his insides being torn apart, and his body, limp and slick.

Cas would never need to know any of this. But dean didn’t worry about living through it. He worried about seeing Cas again, if he did live, he worried if this moment would forever damage the sight of his dark-haired angel, if these scorning angry blue eyes would become Cas’s consoling ones. 

The monster pulled out, leaving a weeping exhausted hunter beneath him, muscles loose and numb, twinging with strikes of stinging fire.

Lucifer allowed dean to regain his breathing, then bent down to whisper in deans ear. “I’ll bet you wish you could do this with the real Castiel, don’t you? You wish you could feel him inside you... don’t you Dean Winchester?” 

The words were quiet, but dean felt as if they had been ripped from his own head and shouted to the entire world. None of his deepest thoughts had ever been said aloud. Nothing. Not even when dean had allowed himself to cum to the thought of Cas, not even when he had lain, panting and numb with waves of pleasure from his own hands, had he even mouthed the angels name in fear of Cas finding him, or hearing him call out “Cas... Cas... Cas....” 

Dean groaned from the image, and the angels name echoed on his lips, a silent scream of longing. 

The fake Cas shifted down to deans legs and grabbed the hunters member with both hands. He picked up the blade again and grimaced as he gashed a small cut onto deans cock, earning a sharp hiss from dean. “Poor sad dean, poor frustrated dean. You know Cas will never love you. Never in the way you want him to, at least.” Dean was panting now, teeth gritted so hard together it hurt. Whoever or whatever this monster was, it knew how to hurt. And it knew where to hit Dean hardest. Pain was one thing. Words were another. 

And dean would have taken the pain any day over this. Anything but this. 

Existence became a blur. Dean eventually blanked out from loss of blood and the depression. He couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t. Fake Cas began to seem like real Cas and they were in deans room at the bunker and then in a forest and then dean was dying in a street and Cas abandoned him after stabbing him in a warehouse and then his body was on fire after Cas burned his eyes out and he was dying dying and dying and all he could hear were the words of hateful Cas, angry Cas, vengeful Cas, laying the guilt and shame on dean over and over and denying their friendship again and again. Cuts in his chest. Cuts on his arms. Hands. Legs. Everywhere. 

Dean gasped, unable to catch his breath. His head fell to one side, a tear sliding out of his half closed eyes. He could feel the warm blood but not the pain. All he could hear was Cas’s words in his head... “I hate you Dean Winchester... I’ll never love you Dean Winchester... you thought I cared. Well you were wrong....”

“Cas...” the name slipped out on his last conscious breath, and before his eyes faded into a dizzying darkness he dreamed he saw a trench-coat and a glint of silver, a scream, a flash of light, and a dark haired man grip his right shoulder and shout one word: “DEAN!” 

——-

**more coming soon** ;)


	2. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up at the bunker, and is met with the face of his torturer. 
> 
> But this is Cas... his friend... right?
> 
> Maybe things aren’t as platonic as they seem.  
> Long-withheld emotions are poured out, and Sam realizes he may have to invest in sound-proof headphones.

“Dean. DEAN.”

Dean woke to find Sam staring down at him, his usual worried look creasing the space between his brows. 

They were back in the bunker. Fake Cas was gone. Dean was in his room, wearing clothes again. Well, half of his clothes. His bottom half was covered by a blanket, according to Sam, his wounds had been the worst there. 

“Oh god— Dean.” Sammy bent over dean, examining his brothers eyes. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” 

Dean grunted and pulled himself upright. “Where’s, uh. Where’s Cas.” His voice felt shattered, raw, his throat felt even worse. Every word was like claws scratching at his insides. 

Sam frowned at him. Of course his brother would ask about Cas. He only just got out of being tortured almost to death by Lucifer himself. Sam tried to restrain his eye rolling. 

“Cas is outside, Dean. He, uh—“

Dean looked expectantly at his younger brother. If Cas was hurt in any way... this wouldn’t end well for himself either. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Cas is... fine. He’s washing your car.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Huh.” 

“Huh? That’s it?” Sam coughed and stared, obviously shocked. 

The bed springs creaked as Dean pushed himself off, grabbing up the blanket, and against Sams better judgement, padded across the room to the window. 

Cas was indeed washing Deans 1967 black Chevy Impala, and strangely, Dean didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it kinda turned him on. Whatever Sam said, Dean was feeling fine. And watching the angel wash Baby.... well. 

At worst, it was a distraction. A distraction from whatever had been done to him the night before. The details were foggy, but slowly growing clearer, and there had been something about Cas... and obviously something had been done to his most particular body parts. 

“Hello Dean.” 

The world spun. He remembered now. Lucifer. The voice. So different yet so... similar. So frighteningly exact.  
Dean gripped the window ledge for support, the blanket just barely staying on. Thank god he’d had the sense to wrap it tightly. 

“Cas?”

The name leaked out of him, a whisper, a question, and Dean remembered everything. Those haunting blue eyes squinted right at him, the dark tousled head tilted in that so particularly Cas-like way. 

Dean knew he looked like a fool, mouth parted, gripping the window sill, blanket tied around his waist. How was it possible to look so Cas-like, and yet here he was, the REAL Cas, who had no idea what had happened to him, what had been done to him, and here he was looking at him, with those eyes Dean should have hated. He should have hated their similarity.

But he loved them more than ever. Because their similarities were nothing compared to their differences. 

Sam coughed into his hand, glancing at Cas and Dean in turn, obviously amused. They both turned to look at the interrupter. “I think I’m just going to, uh, leave you guys here. For a bit. I’ll... be downstairs. Make sure you tell him, Cas.” 

Deans lips quivered, and parted. He could feel himself shaking, but he wasn’t going to sit down. He looked back up to meet Cas’s gaze. “Tell me what, Cas.” 

The angel took a step forward and raised his hands in his signature shrug tilt gesture. “Dean...I... I heard you call my name.” He stared out the window. Dean sighed softly. Cas never was any good at paying attention. 

Except when he stared at Dean. Then... well. Then he never blinked. 

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “C’mon Cas. That can’t be all Sam wanted you to tell me.” 

The angel turned from the window, his face... angry.

“My... brother. Lucifer. There was a—hole. In the Cage.”The blue eyes shifted away again. “Somehow, Lucifer was able to transport his consciousness through the hole. You were dragged—most likely by some of Lucifer’s minions—to a pit near enough to Hell that he was able to take a solid form and—“ 

Cas’s gravelly voice fell lower until his words cracked. 

Dean swallowed. His throat still felt shredded. It was hard to talk. 

“Let me clarify. Lucifer is back.”

Cas considered, and then shook his head slowly. “Not quite. Only his consciousness is loose. Rowena and Crowley are working on putting the cage, and Lucifer, back together.” 

“Son of a bitch. I need a drink.” Dean raised his voice as much as possible, but it was deeper and rougher than usual. 

He turned away to face the wall and bashed his clenched fists into the old wood. It did not break. Unsatisfying. 

“Dean—“ Cas looked as if he meant to say something, his mouth opened in that slanted crooked style dean loved so much, then he shook his head and closed it. “I... healed you. As much as possible. Your wounds were—“ the angels voice shook. “I came as soon as I was able.” 

Cas turned around to stare out the window, hands clasped behind him, head up. Dean loved it when he did that. Even when having a conversation about the devil himself, Cas could always appear calm and graceful, and so innocent it was shocking for even dean for witness. 

“Dean, I... I would rather not talk about this just now.” 

The hunter was surprised to hear a rip in Cas’s voice. A sadness that wasn’t there before. Did he know what happened after all? Had he seen the form that Lucifer had assumed? 

Typical. Cas getting all emotional. Well too bad. Dean wanted answers. 

Apparently, Cas saw the look in the oldest Winchester’s eyes because he took a step forward and placed a hand on Deans right shoulder. It felt so right, so familiar. 

“I need to finish healing you, before you decide to argue with me, Dean. Your—main wounds... are internal. I will have to touch you closer to the damaged area than is normally required.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about. Of course Cas wasn’t comfortable with touching Dean there. It had been fake Cas, or Lucifer, rather, that had played with him. Cas was a friend. Nothing more. 

Cas’s gaze squinted, his mouth tightening, trying to assess deans reaction. 

Dean nodded, looked down, then rubbed his jaw. “Yeah. Right. Sure. Uh.” What was he supposed to do? 

Cas looked confused. “Dean. It won’t hurt. I’ve healed you many times before.” He continued to squint at the hunter. 

“Please sit, Dean, and take off the blanket.” The hunters face turned red. Why was he like this around Cas, of all people? Dozens of girls had done this exact thing in a far more sexual experience, and Dean hadn’t batted an eye. Cas had probably seen millions of naked men, after all, he’d been there for the creation of mankind. This was stupid. 

But somehow, Cas mattered far more than all those girls put together. 

Unfortunately, Cas was all business. His hands gentle as always, he pulled apart the blanket like a doctor inspecting a bandage. Which dean supposed he kind of was. A doctor that is. Son of bitch. Dean was getting flustered.  
His breathing kicked up a notch when he realized this was the first time real Cas was seeing him naked. Half-naked anyway. The first time real Cas would touch him. 

Apparently Cas was also realizing this because he looked up at Dean, eyes squinted again, mouth slightly parted in a confused look

Then he touched him. The burning, raw pain disappeared, the soreness was gone, the gashes vanished. It was like seeing Cas naked. It was only for a second. How could one touch both heal and destroy so efficiently, Dean thought. 

he realized Cas’s fingers were still touching him. The angels nostrils were flaring, his chest heaving, blue eyes glaring at the man below him, and dean remembered a scene far too similar to this one. Fear took hold. He was back in lucifers cage. Back in the hell-hole. 

Pleading green eyes met blue steely ones. 

But then the angels hand grasped more tightly and dean couldn’t think of anything else, except that Cas was touching him and then they were on the bed, Dean crying with ecstasy. Finally he was going to be touched by his angel, in the way he had always wanted to be touched by him. It was nothing erotic or kinky like fake Cas had been. It was love like dean had never experienced, true and deep and honest and... intense. 

Dean moaned out a laugh as Cas continued to palm his cock. He could feel his back pressing into the bed, feet dangling off the end, Cas kneeling over him chest still heaving under the trench coat. This is what they had both been waiting for, though neither knew how long the other had wished for it.

Suddenly dean sat up. Everything in his body was on fire, soaked with pleasure and lust for the angel standing above him. 

“Come on down, Cas.” Dean whispered, then he was pulling the trench coat down toward him and they were kissing, Cas straddling the hunters lap, deans hands wrapped in dark hair pulling and twisting with the melody of their gasps and moans. 

In a second the trench coat was lying on the floor in a pile, soon a blue tie and white shirt joined it. Dean insisted on undoing the buttons himself.

Cas sat in deans lap, half naked, eyes screwed shut with intensity and need, their hard cocks pressing against one another, tongues dancing in the others mouth, deans fingers entwined in the angels dark hair, twisting and pulling 

“Uuuhh... Cas...” Deans words came out half whimpered between kisses, and he could hear Cas laugh in his soft quiet way. Dean fell backwards again onto the bed and allowed himself to feel weak in the angels arms. This was the one moment in his entire life he had ever felt completely safe. Completely trusting. Of course it was with Cas. It had always been Cas. 

“Dean...” the angels voice, in between their fierce kissing, was husky and deep, gravelly in a way dean had never heard before. Dean could feel the bed sheets warming beneath his back, Cas’s heat pressed on top of him, hands silky, breath warm. Whiskey. He smelled of whiskey. 

Their panting breaths mingled into one, in and out, with each exhale of the others name, and each groan a plea for more.

Suddenly Cas’s wandering hands became firm, clenched onto deans shoulders. The angel leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I will have you, Dean Winchester.” 

Damn. 

The hunter could feel the groan deep in his chest, and he knew. This was it. This was what real need felt like. So close. And finally, finally, so possible, so real. Cas was his. 

He could hardly get the words out. “Cas. Cas. Hey, Need uh lube, bag, over there.” 

The angel summoned the bottle to his hand with a slight motion, then rested his forehead against Dean’s, breathing thickly. “Dean... I need you.”

His gravelly words sparked a manic desire in Dean, and reaching up suddenly he flipped the angel onto his back, straddling him just as evil-Cas had done to himself. 

But this was not Casifer. This was his Cas, finally, HIS Cas. And only his. 

He suddenly realized he was about to have sex with an angel. An all powerful dangerously destructive being of celestial power, who could wiggle one toe and kill an entire city. 

And yet here that angel was, lying beneath deans clenched body. Submissive to Dean. 

The hunger became too much, and Dean couldn’t simply stare at the dark haired being beneath him anymore. 

Grabbing Cas’s shoulders he let loose a groan into Cas’s mouth as their lips collided, Dean writhing with impatience. 

The hunter reached one hand towards Cas’s crotch, and emphatically stroked the stiff member, swollen and warm to the touch. He flicked his thumb over the top, feeling a wet drop of pre-cum beginning to spill over. 

Cas gave a small sigh and opened his mouth to allow the other’s tongue. Dean took his chance and stroked the top of the angels mouth, producing a guttural moan that went straight to Dean’s groin. 

The image of Cas being inside him surged forward in deans mind, but he wanted to try something else first. The hot aching was getting more unbearable by the second, and he wanted to make sure Cas got the full experience before he finished. 

Cas too was already hard, and he roughly pulled dean in closer, harder, tighter, trying in vain to fulfill the pressure they both craved, their panting moans mingling in waves of soft pleasure, bodies writhing against the other’s.

Suddenly Cas stopped and pulled away. His dark head tilted, eyes narrowed at the hunter’s own green eyes above him. The angel lifted a finger and gathered a tear which had lingered near Deans eye. The angels look was questioning, concerned. “Are you alright?” 

The oldest Winchester, for the first time in his life was crying not from pain and despair and grief, but from pure raw joy, final relief. All his life he had hunted the things that tried to kill him, and he had never had time to hunt for the one who would love him. But he didn’t have to hunt after all. Cas found him, and they were here and he was real and they were real. 

Deans voice was low and quaking. “I’ve never been better, Cas.” 

The angel sat up and gently, firmly pushed dean downwards until his head was at the food of the bed, the hunters bent legs wrapped around his angels taut body, and he realized. He knew, now, what Cas felt like. His skin was warm, burning to the touch almost, as if celestial desire was igniting his vessel. So unlike the cold smoothness of Lucifer’s castiel, there could be no confusion that this was his Cas. The one and only. 

Cas looked blissful, and almost hazy, his lips wet and swollen, and his pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of electric blue showed, raven hair electrified in different directions, a stormy mess. 

“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked. 

He couldn’t believe that after all they had been through, all that Cas had seen of him, the things he had done, and even after his worst crime of all: hiding his feelings for Cas, shoving them down because of fear... how was it possible that an angel would truly want to be with someone as damaged as him? 

It seemed to take Cas a minute to remember how to speak, how to stop staring at the green eyed man beneath him. 

For years, they had both repressed their feelings. Cas knew Dean had difficulty accepting emotions of any kind, but still the angel had tried to convey his own thoughts in the only way he could. It was no mistake that Cas had only ever stared at Dean, his unflinching gaze never rested on anyone else as it did with the oldest Winchester. 

Dean of course had thought it was because he was an angel; that he had never learned human social skills, but dean also knew that Cas refrained from staring at Bobby or Sam, or anyone else for that matter. 

It was only Dean. In his millions of years of existence, it had only ever been Dean. 

And so the angel had never been more sure of anything. He had made many mistakes. But this wasn’t one of them. 

“Yes, Dean. Are you?” 

Ha. Dean laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. Only Cas. 

Dean responded by pulling Cas’s dark head down toward his own, and roughly kissed him, catching the angels lips between his teeth. He could feel Cas’s warm body tensing, gyrating above his own, his manic need as evident as Dean’s. Cas sighed deeply, and rutted against dean so hard, the hunter was almost shoved off the bed.

“You sure you’re a virgin?” Dean’s voice shook, and he lifted his head to allow Cas’s nips to reach his neck. “Cause you’re damn good at this.”

Cas responded between sighs of pleasure, his mouth constantly working to please the man surrendering beneath him. 

“I’ve been observing humanity for a millennia, Dean. I’ve picked up a few things.” 

“Hu—UHH— I guess so damn— CAS” the angel had begun sucking on Deans pulse point all the while stroking the hunters right nipple and eliciting a satisfied hum that resounded through Dean’s body. Cas did it again, sucking harder and the hum turned to a mewl. 

“Fuck you make the hottest noises,” Dean panted. “I could come just listening to you.”

He actually was dangerously close, and if Cas was a virgin, he needed to speed things along before it was too late. Cas has promised he would take him tonight, and damnit, Dean was cashing in. 

He suddenly wondered if Sam could hear them. He suddenly realized he didn’t care. 

“Okay—okay—hey— Cas, Cas” 

Blue eyes flickered to Dean, and he realized that even if Cas knew to be gentle, it would still be smart to prepare himself. Who knew how powerful an angel could be? 

“Okay,” dean smiled, “I’m going to need a few minutes to prep but then I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.” 

He shifted himself out from under the angel and grabbed the bottle of lube that had been tossed amongst the sheets. 

He felt a hot firm hand on his shoulder and was suddenly pulled back on the mattress, trapped underneath Cas’s intense gaze. They were kissing, Cas moaning into his mouth. Dean felt a surge of laughter. Apparently an angel could get impatient too. 

Then he felt two strong fingers, wet with lube, pry slowly into his entrance. Cas had distracted him, quite well. if his angel wanted to play dominant, and do all the dirty work, Dean was great with that. 

It was odd being in such a submissive posture, for a hunter. 

But it felt so right. Exciting. And damn was it hot. 

Cas began slowly working him open. It had been a long time since dean had done it with a man, and it hurt almost as much as the first time. 

One of Cas’s warm fingers gently prodded through the tight ring of muscle. In, out, in, wiggle, out.. two fingers entered. It stung, Dean wasn’t going to lie. But there was also a hot building melting pressure that made up for the discomfort. Fuck, Cas knew how to use his fingers. 

Cas sped up slightly, pushing his fingers up to the knuckle. Dean could feel his back arching into his touch, could remember all the times he had done this to himself, imagining it was Cas... but this time it really was Cas. He felt full, and not just in a sexual way. 

Dean opened his eyes and found Castiel staring back at him, exactly as Dean had always imagined. Fierce thin blue rings surrounded Cas’s dilated pupils, and Dean forgot how to breathe as the feeling of fullness edged closer and closer to his finishing. 

With a sharp gasp, Dean whimpered our Cas’s name and arched his head backwards, toes curling inwards in an attempt to pull himself from the brink. 

“Dean?” Cas stopped, worry in his voice, wet hand on the hunters shoulder. Dean realized his facial expression might be alarming to someone who had never done it this way. 

“Cas— ‘m fine— FUCK ME, please—“ Dean could barely get the words out for the sheer NEED. 

Cas hesitated. 

Dean lifted up his head to give the angel a lingering, panting kiss, then gently laid back on the bed, shifting his weight to prepare for the angel. 

He grunted as Cas entered again, digging deeper than before. Finally he felt a a twinge of pleasure as Cas touched his prostate. Dean buckled into the angels hand, his body responding to his mind-numbing NEED to finish, to feel it, so close, SO—

Gasping as the pain gave way to electric pleasure, Dean laughed and pulled back Cas’s wrist before he finished right then and there. 

He realized, sitting up, that Cas had also been massaging his own member, in order to be completely ready for what was coming. Dean reached over and grasped his angels stiff cock with one hand, earning a trembling moan from Cas, who arched his back and gripped Deans arm. 

“Easy there,” dean smirked, “no rush.” 

“I disagree,” Cas growled, his voice dangerously low and husky. 

Dean gave Cas one more stroke then let go. Cas mewled in protest, thrusting into empty air. Dean soothed him, laying a hand on Cas’s quaking chest. “I have something much better for you.”

“Then fucking give it to me,” Cas almost sobbed.

That nearly did it for dean. Cas begging and swearing, two things he never did? That image was going to fuel Dean’s imagination for years to come, if he even lived that long. 

Dean managed to get himself under control, but Cas’s need was becoming unmanageable. 

The angel shoved dean back again once more, hands gripping the hunters shoulders, and lined himself up. Somehow he managed to enter slowly and carefully, but dean could see the straining effort it took not to thrust with his instinct. He himself was having the same issue not bucking erratically into Cas. 

Cas’s blue eyes were hazy, an almost manic drugged look of ecstasy and pleasure. Dean was sure his eyes looked the same. 

Throwing his head back, deans panting grew thicker and heavier as Cas sped up, riding the oldest Winchester with all the passion dean had dreamed of. By sheer luck, Cas managed to hit Dean’s sweet spot almost every time, ripping a cry of pure insanity from Dean’s throat. All too soon he felt the end approaching, every nudge to his prostrate pushing him closer to the edge. 

Dean panted out Cas’s name quietly, then louder and louder.. a rhythm made of pure ecstasy and laced with promise. “Cas— CAS— DAMMIT CAS!” His voice broke in a shaky crescendo. “TAKE ME—CAS—“ 

The angel broke gaze only briefly with the writhing man beneath him, his dark head tilted upward, gasping mouth open and brows furrowed in the blinding intensity of their climax. 

One word escaped his mouth as with one last erratic spur of thrusts, he came, hot and achingly releasing: 

“..Dean...” a groan more than a word, but the hunter beneath him heard it. 

Cas’s eyes flashed opened, and Dean saw a spark of electric blue light just before three things happened which made Dean’s previous heart-beat seem lethargic. 

An enormous shadow in the shape of furled wings expanded against the wall.

The lightbulbs in his room shattered with a resounding crash, spraying glass everywhere. 

And just before Dean could feel his eyes closing, he heard an urgent voice shouting outside the door. A pounding fist against the wood.

Then his mind rolled over, fuzzy and blank, his limbs like wood; and a ringing, high pitched, white-hot screaming filled the bunker. 

Only an angel could make that noise. And it wasn’t Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon... thinking of including Debriel and more Casifer later on. Let me know what y’all think :)  
> Stay tuned!! 
> 
> And remember: comment below with any ideas, prompts or suggestions


	3. What the Hell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up after being knocked unconscious from some... electrifying... activities. 
> 
> But this time, there’s a visitor waiting for him. An annoying visitor.

“Oh-ho-ho! Hey Sam, your bro didn’t die from sex after all.” 

Dean felt his chest unclog as his still-fuzzy brain gradually remembered how to breathe. 

“Dean—Dean—hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” 

Sam. That was Sam’s voice.  
Dean had to stop passing out like this. Sure, waking up half-dead was no new thing to Dean, what with his drinking and... drinking. Hangovers were a bitch. 

But over the past 24 hours, Dean had spent more time than not being an unconscious sack of meat, and he was getting sick of waking up to Sam’s worried face. 

“Well, the damsel in distress finally awakes.”

That voice again. Dean blinked his eyes, squinting as he stared down the blinding beam of a flashlight. The room was almost black. He was still lying in his bed. His arms and chest stung, as if from paper cuts. Or glass shards. 

The lights. 

The wings. 

The screaming. 

Holy shit. 

Cas.

Dean sloppily flapped away the flashlight and swung his legs over the side of the bed, gripping the edges to steady himself. 

“Cas.” Dean coughed. His voice felt dry and raspy. “Where’s—uh. Where’s Cas.” 

He pinched the skin between his eyebrows and tried to erase the dizziness. 

“Dean I’m here.” 

Relief. A warm hand on his shoulder. Good. 

“Whoa there, big boy.”  
Another hand swatted away Cas’s.  
“This ain’t a porno, move away from the princess.” 

“Gabriel.” Cas sounded annoyed. His voice always got deeper when he was annoyed.

What the. Did he just say Gabriel? 

Dean looked up. 

“Son of a BITCH.” 

Gabriel threw a wrapper in Cas’s face (who reacted no way whatsoever) and proceeded to reveal yet another candy bar from inside his jacket, biting an enormous hunk from the top. 

The trickster gave dean a self satisfied smirk with a mouth full of nougat. 

“Right back at ya, Bucko.” 

————

More coming soon!! Stay tuned ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Anon for your suggestions and ideas!!! I never would have thought of bringing him into the story otherwise :)


	4. Oh for Heaven’s Sake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter here
> 
> A little bit of Gabriel, a little bit of Destiel... 
> 
> damn, I LOVE WRITING GABRIEL’S DIALOGUE. Such a character. 
> 
> TONS more coming soon... I’ve finally figured out the plot line, thanks to Anon’s help :) 
> 
> It’s gonna be friggin awesome so stay tuned!!

Dean put his still groggy head in his hands. He was not conscious enough to deal with GABRIEL, of all things. 

Now he knew how Sam felt. One night of damn good sex with someone he actually finally cared about, and the shit hits the ceiling. 

He hadn’t even had time to enjoy Cas’s insanely good orgasm, or the look on his face, before everything went to hell. 

Oh crap. 

Dean checked. 

Yep. 

He was still naked. 

Son of a bitch. 

Luckily the sheet covered most of it, and Cas must have been able to clean him up, hopefully before Sam came barging in the room. So much for privacy. 

Of course, the lights HAD shattered, and there was that screaming noise, which Dean now linked to Gabriel’s flair for all things dramatic (the dude had faked his death, what, twice now?) so Sam had good reason to be a little freaked.

Dean hoped his brother hadn’t seen anything too life-scarring. He’s have to ask later. 

Dean spoke from behind his fingers, voice muffled and exhausted. 

“How the hell did HE get in here.”

No one answered. Dean could FEEL Gabriel’s smirk. 

“Aw come ONNN guys. Castiel, you wanna tell your boyfriend here how I crashed your fortress?” 

Cas seemed hesitant to speak. 

Gabriel sighed. “Okay okay. How’s about we move into a room with, you know, LIGHTS, so we can continue this tête-à-tête with a little more, uh, visibility. Sound good? Good.”

Gabriel walked immediately out the room, followed closely by Sam. 

It was only when Cas grabbed Dean’s gray robe from the head-board of his—their—bed, that Dean realized the angel had been standing naked in the dark the entire time. 

Dean wondered suddenly if angels even cared about that kind of thing. 

“Cas—hey, uh, wait.” Dean grabbed his wrist and he could feel Cas’s gaze. 

Dean pulled the dark-haired angel down and gave him a fierce kiss, then whispered, “whatever happens—Cas— I want you to know that.. that was the best damn sex I’ve ever had.” 

Cas gripped his hand, and handing Dean some kind of cloth-covering, walked out of the room. 

Dean could see from the faint light through the doorway that Cas was smiling slightly. 

He shifted away from the sheet and examining the material, recognized it all too quickly.

God, he even knew what the angels clothes felt like. 

The trench coat fit a little too well, and he knew Sam would make some kind of remark, but Dean had never loved a piece of clothing so much. 

What a sight they’d be. An angel in a bathrobe, and a hunter in a trench coat. 

Who woulda thought.

————

***Gabriel’s POV***

Even the Winchester’s kitchen was cool. Gabriel had seen plenty of hideouts in his long long life. Probably because he’d spend most of that long long life hiding from his sweet, sweet “familia loco.” 

But this place? Well. This would be a perfect setting for a new siesta he’d been planning. Just some booze, bondage and porn-stars... mm. 

Gabriel grabbed a seat on the kitchen’s island table, propping his back against one support beam and his feet against the other. 

Sam sat like a regular person at the regular table, looking like the literal personification of the word “done.” 

Gabriel smirked, and dug around in a nearby peanut-bowl. 

“Oh yeah that’s great. Just dig around in our food and put your shoes on our counter.” 

Dean had entered the kitchen. Apparently. 

Gabriel continued to peruse the peanut selections. “Ah dean. How’s that saying go? Su casa es mi casa?”

He could feel Dean’s bitchface. “No. Pretty sure it’s the other way around, asshat.” 

Gabe looked up from the snack bowl and chuckled at the sight that greeted him.  
“Oh this is too good. Hey, Paul Bunyan, you seein this? Your bro and his boyfriend swapped outfits.”

Dean gave him a flat death-glare and joined Sam at the table. Cas calmly slid next to him, but Gabe could see a slight cheerfulness on the angel’s face that could only relate to Dean’s new ensemble. 

Gabe hated to admit it, but Dean was lookin hella good in the trench coat. 

No doubt about it. They had had something. But dean would have no memories of their time together, Gabriel himself had made sure of that.

He had to move on. No time for chick-flick nostalgia. 

Gabriel tried not to let his emotions get the better of him, and put up his usual mask of SSS: Sarcastic-Sassy-Snark. Trade mark pending. 

“So love-birds.. you wanna talk this out, or what?” Gabriel hopped off the table and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest. “Sam you think you could handle a quick rerun of the juicy details, cause— I don’t know about you but I’m kinda curious.” 

No one answered. 

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Okaaay. Triple bitch-face from the three Amigos, huh? Only tryin to help.”  
He leaned over and grabbed another handful of peanuts. 

Dean crossed over to him and smacked the nuts onto the floor, then promptly sat back down. “Bite me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel frowned at the scattered peanuts. “Yeah... maybe later, big boy.” The archangel tried not to look hurt at Dean’s words. This was Dean Winchester he was talking to after all. Anger management issues seemed to run in the family. 

Kinda like his own dear old relatives. 

Sam groaned and put his head against the table. “Dean, he’s right.”

“Ha! THANK you Sam.” Gabe rubbed his palms together. “Alright boys: give me the dirty details.” 

“No—Gabriel just shut up—Dean that’s not what I meant.” Sam looked up. “Can we—uh, talk in private, Dean?” 

Dean’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded, and they walked down the hall, leaving the two angels in the kitchen. 

Gabriel tilted his head at bathrobe-wearing Cas. 

“Soooo. How’s things, little bro.” 

Castiel responded with an exasperated side-eye.

“FINE, if that’s how you wanna play it.” Gabriel sauntered over to the kitchen entrance, and peeked down each hallway. 

“Gabriel. If Sam and Dean wanted you in their conversation they would have asked.” 

The archangel snorted. “Castiel, the day Sam and Dean actually ASK anyone to take part in their bromance heart-to-heart chats is the day Dad decides to come home.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Gabriel walked down the hallway to the right until he heard Sam’s unnaturally maternal voice. Now there was a dude who watched too many chick-flicks. 

“... think I care? Dean, why the hell would I care if you’re into guys? We kill vampires and evil clowns for a living, we have a freakin archangel-trickster-hybrid in our kitchen, and you think I care that you and Cas are FINALLY together?” 

Dean’s response consisted of a few mumbles and a cough. Clever, Dean. Reeeal intelligent. Then:

“Did you—uh—see? Anything?” 

Gabriel heard a groan. “Seriously dean? I mean—no—the lights were out by the time I opened the door. If anything, you should be sorry about the crap I had to HEAR. I mean, I know this thing between you and Cas has been a long time coming, but seriously— Dean.”

“You mean you—uh—heard all that?”

Sam snorted. “Uh—yeah, Dean. I heard ‘all that.’”

There was silence for a bit. Then: 

“Dean— I’ve known for a long time. Honestly, it was more just the shock of walking in on—that— than anything else.”

Dean scoffed. “Whaddya mean you’ve known for a long time, I was doing great keeping it down. Even Cas—“

“Dude, you literally could not have been more obvious. The way you look at him? ALL the time? Hell, if you ever looked at me the way you look at Cas, I’d be spending our beer money on therapist sessions. And the weird way he just stares at you, even the first day you almost killed him, he’s been staring ONLY at you, Dean. I mean, have you ever seen him have staring contests like that—with anyone else? 

Quiet. 

“Well. Thanks Sammy. Seriously. Dad—he uh—well let’s just say I told him once, how I felt. About guys I mean. He... disapproved. He didn’t want you to know. Otherwise.. I’d have told you.” 

Gabriel removed his hands from inside his pockets and made a few stomping noises up the hallway closer to their room, and pounded on the door. 

“When you muttonheads are done auditioning for your next big Nicholas Sparks movie, let us know will ya, so we can go—you know—ice the devil before he breaks bad.” 

Gabriel walked back toward the kitchen before he could hear their insults. 

He paused just before reaching the doorway. He wiped the emotions off his face. And he pretended, as usual, that he didn’t care. 

Especially not if it concerned Dean Winchester.


	5. Regarding Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel’s got some ‘splaining to do. Meanwhile, the archangel wrestles with his feelings towards Dean, who is also once again hiding his fears. 
> 
> Lotsa snark... and a visit from a surprise guest.

Dean put on some boxers before going back into the kitchen. He loved the trench coat and all, but it felt wrong being otherwise butt naked on the kitchen bench with his brother and an archangel. 

One slip of the cloth and—well, Sam had already seen enough for one night. 

If he was being perfectly honest, Dean was relieved Sam had seen him and Cas. Obviously, he would have preferred to come out a different way, one that involved less—uh—pornographic circumstances, but ultimately it was the for the best. 

If things kept going in the same direction, he and Cas were going to be having a LOT more—opportunities. And what with Cas’s porn-Star worthy noises, and equally awesome skills on Dean, it would have been very difficult to hide their activities from Sam. 

He WOULD have to buy Sam a set of sound-proof headphones though. 

He owed him that much. 

—————

“Now that you boys are—FINally—back from your bromance bonding session, let’s get to business, shall we? Dad knows we’ve wasted enough precious time.” 

Gabriel tapped his wrist as if gesturing at an invisible wrist-watch. “Clocks tickin’ and Lucy’s kickin.” 

“Yeah, hold on Gabriel.” Sam held up a finger and glanced at Dean. “We still want to know—how did you get in? We’ve barricaded this place pretty thoroughly against archangels.” 

Dean got up from the table and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I think you mean: how the HELL did you get in, and Sam’s right: this place is covered in sigils. Which we put there. On purpose. Against ARCHANGELS. FOR this reason.” 

Dean kicked his feet up on the table and popped the cap off, glowering at Gabriel. 

The archangel spread his arms. “Ah—well, actually, senorita, that little trick of mine is thanks to you and Cassie over there.” 

Cas frowned at Gabriel. “What do you mean.” 

Gabriel winced. “Oof you’re gonna make me go there, huh? Well, if you must know, Cassie, your little climax had quite the celestial effect on more than just Dean’s—“

“OO-KAY! okay—Gabriel, I’m here too.” Sam buried his face in his hands again.

Gabriel sighed. “FIIINE. Wimp. Long story short: any burst of celestial ecstasy of that level is more than enough to incinerate angelic sigils. Hell, you should probably check up on the rest of your little cult-graffiti too. Dad only knows the level of Cas’s...” Gabriel winked. “...force.”

Gabriel was satisfied to see a pink bloom on each of Dean’s cheeks. 

Castiel, however, was less susceptible to humiliation. “You mean that any time Dean and I conduct sexual intercourse in the future... it will result in complete eradication of this bunker’s protection from not only archangels, but also demons.” 

Gabriel shrugged. “As long as you’re within a few mile radius of this bunker, and as long as Cassie gets his fill of the big O—if you catch my drift—my best guess is yes. But honestly? You guys are kinda a first. Angels don’t usually have relationships with humans, much less continual SEXUAL relationships. If that happened.. well, let’s just say nephilims would be a hell of a lot more common.” 

Gabriel winked at Dean. “But of course YOU won’t have that problem, will you Deano?”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and conjured up his own glass of scotch. “I meant to say it earlier, but you picked a grade-A bottom, little bro.”

Dean choked on his beer, and pounded the table with his fist, hacking and coughing his way through a long list of cuss words. 

But Cas just squinted his eyes at the archangel, who smugly sipped from his glass. “I don’t understand tha—“ 

Then Cas’s mouth formed a little “oh” of understanding, and he looked back down at the table. 

“Now that the fun part is over,” Gabriel snapped his fingers again and three glasses of scotch appeared in front of the trio. “Let’s get down to biz, shall we?”

Dean made a big gesture of pushing his own glass away from himself while giving Gabriel the stink-eye. 

No way was he going to forget what Gabriel had done concerning a certain Tuesday, and a certain mystery spot. That son of a bitch could talk all he wanted about trying to “teach Sam a lesson,” but Dean knew the pain that his hundred-plus deaths had caused for his little brother, and although he himself couldn’t remember much about any of them, anything that hurt Sammy was enough. 

Rolling his eyes at Dean’s behavior, the archangel snapped his fingers again, and Dean’s glass disappeared. “Suit yourself, Bucko. As I was saying: my visit does actually have a purpose other than getting an eyeful of Cassie and his boyfriend wearing their best birthday suits.”

Dean’s body tensed. “Let me guess: Lucifer’s back in town and you want us to do the dirty work.” 

Gabriel frowned. There was an unmistakable shaking in the oldest Winchester’s voice, hidden under a tough layer of bravado and snark, but Gabriel recognized it all the same.

It was the same weak fear that came into his own voice, on occasion. Hidden by the same snarkiness. 

What had Lucifer done. 

The archangel covered up his reaction, and continued. 

“Actually, gentlemen.... I’m here to help.”

Dean scoffed, and Gabriel gave him a flat glare. 

“Im gonna ignore that. As far as I know, Lucifer’s soul of gold managed to escape through a crack in the cage around, oh... earlier this morning? Thanks to the Fuck Heard ‘Round the World recently released by Top and Bottom over here—A-plus timing on that, by the way— every angel within listening distance will be able to pinpoint our exact location. Chances are, that includes my dear ol’ brother.”

“...and the sigils are gone,” Sam added. 

“Son of a bitch. How long do we have until he gets here,” Dean asked. 

“Mm... about that.”

Dean snapped his head around so fast he felt his neck pop, and reached for the angel blade strapped to the underside of the table. 

Lucifer as Nick was leaning against their kitchen doorway, hands tucked in his jean pockets, his smile a child-like mix of impish innocence.

“Hi, guys... Long time no spooning.” 

————


	6. A Hell of a Lot of Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can’t stand the heat, get out the kitchen. 
> 
> The devil’s back, Gabriel is feeling confrontational for the first time in his life, and Castiel learns the horrifying truth about Dean’s time with Lucifer. 
> 
> Stay tuned!!! Tons more coming soon: and it’s about to get pretty dark ;)

***Gabriel’s POV***

Lucifer stepped into the kitchen and tucked his shoulders upwards in a mocking shrug. “Gotta say... I’m a little hurt you guys didn’t invite me to the family reunion! Too bad Dad couldn’t make it, but what else is new, right Cassie?” 

Gabriel looked over at the table and was disturbed to see Sam and Dean curling tightly into themselves. He had expected at least some kind of sarcastic remark from the hunters, accompanied by a classic display of Winchester bravado. 

But this... 

Gabriel had long wondered exactly what had gone on between Lucifer and Sam when THEY’D been locked in the cage together, not so long ago. 

Of course, Sam had always displayed the usual emotions related to his not-so-angelic brother: Pain. Torment. Terror. 

But now that Dean had been subjected to the Devil, Gabriel knew there was something else. A look, reflected in the eyes of both Sam and Dean. A look that spoke of another kind of pain. Deeper. More damaged. More intimate. And therefore— all the more heinous. 

Sam’s eyes, and the way his tall body would unconsciously curl inwards, trying to protect itself... there was a brokenness that spoke of torture outside the usual. 

And now Gabriel saw the same look in Dean’s eyes. 

That look—it made him angry. For the first time in his long long life, he felt a kind of anger he couldn’t forgive. A kind of anger that could be worth the trouble of caring, worth the pain of actually giving a crap. 

His brother had seriously hurt Dean. He knew the oldest Winchester well enough to recognize his initial emotional-lock-down syndrome, where Dean—not unlike himself—tended to bury his pain in a place where the sun don’t shine... until it became too much, and all the memories eventually broke out in a burst of tremendous fury. 

Gabriel felt a twinge of that fury now, looking at the remnants of Dean Winchester. What he’d been through.. what Sam had been through... 

It was time he stood up against that rotten excuse for a brother. 

It was time Gabriel stepped up to the plate, and protect the thing he loved—even if it caused a hell of a lot of trouble. 

Gabriel stood his ground, and looked his brother in the eye. He would protect Dean Winchester with all he had. Hell, he’d protect Castiel and Sam too. No more excuses. 

Gabriel’s eyes flared an electric blue, and shadows of wings erupted behind him on the wall. “Sorry, bro. Party just ended. I think it’s about time you left.” 

Lucifer seemed not to notice the angelic warning. He bent down and shifted through the peanut shells on the floor. Finding nothing, he sighed and stood up brushing his hands off on his shirt. “Aw, come on Gabriel. Really? The wings and everything? I mean—don’t get me wrong—you’re lookin good—but intimidation was never really your thing.” 

Gabriel continued to glare. 

Lucifer groaned and rolled his eyes. Then his sight landed on the trio behind Gabriel.  
“Castiel! I see you’re serious as always. Oh, hey Sammy.” The devil winked. “Lookin good.”

“Screw. You.”

Lucifer frowned as if honestly hurt by Sam’s comment. 

“It’s fiiine, I get it, I’m the bad guy. Can we move on now please?” The devils gaze shifted onto the third member of the table, and a small pleased smile crept into the corner of his mouth. 

“How’s it goin there Dean?” His voice lowered to a mocking whisper. “I had a great time last night, why didn’t you call me back?” His eyes seemed to devour Dean’s trembling body. “Course... maybe you don’t recognize me. Have you told your new boyfriend yet, which one of us you prefer? I think...my impersonation was probably...the better of the two, but—uh—what do you think?” 

Cas stood up from the table. “Shut. Up.” His voice was lower than ever, and gravelly at the kind of level which Dean knew to mean ‘do not mess with me.’

Lucifer seemed surprised, and chuckled, ambling closer to Castiel who was now standing beside Gabe. “Wait wait wait. Do you not—oh my Dad. You don’t know, do you?” 

Cas’s eyes were practically blue slits, and the the tip of his own angel blade peeked out of the end of his sleeve. “I know enough, Lucifer—I know—how much you hurt Dean, in ways he never should have been hurt, and I—“ the angel’s voice broke off, as he noticed Lucifer’s impish grin.

The devil was bouncing on the balls of his feet, like an excited child waiting in line. 

Then his form shifted, undulated, dark hair replaced faded blonde, and his jacket and jeans reformed into a trench coat and blue tie. 

Cas stared, horrified, at the doppleganger. “No. You—NO.”

Dean reached a hand up from behind Cas, and gripped his angel’s arm tightly. “Cas—it’s okay, we’re okay—“

Lucifer tilted himself forward in a mocking bow. “Remember me, Deano? Cause..” 

The devil bit his Cas-like bottom lip, and grinned manically. “...this body sure remembers you.” 

The angel-blade’s full width dropped into Cas’s hand, and he launched himself at his impersonator. The blade pierced through the trench coat, disappearing in Lucifer’s flesh. 

Lucifer’s blue eyes flashed red, and Cas flew backwards against the kitchen counter, falling in a crumpled heap against the floor. Dean flinched, and tried to sneak behind Gabriel, but Fake-Cas held up a finger and the hunter’s body smacked back into his seat.

The devil inspected the silver blade still stuck in his chest, and whistled. “Woo-hoo-HOO! Aw come ON Castiel! Soooo predictable.”

He pulled out the blade with ease, and melted it into a puddle of molten silver. 

Gabriel had known the angel blade wouldn’t work against his brother. Only archangel blades would do the trick, and he didn’t see any of those lying around. 

He’d have to improvise. 

More coming soon!!!


	7. Heaven’s Fallen Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel’s a man with a plan—or rather, an angel with a plan. 
> 
> Lucifer is his obnoxious self as always, and begins working on the long list of torment he has planned for the Winchester trio.

***Dean’s POV*** 

Dean had seen the Devil change forms. He had seen the face of Nick ripple into the face of his worst nightmare and also the face of his happiest dreams. He knew that the Castiel standing before him was not, and had never been, his Cas. He knew all of this with certainty. 

But when the angel blade plunged itself deep into the trench-coated chest, Dean couldn’t help but feel that his own lungs had been punctured. 

He knew it wasn’t Cas. He also knew the blade wouldn’t kill Lucifer. But for a split second—he felt he’d forgotten how to breathe. 

Then Lucifer threw the real Cas into the kitchen wall, and dean realized the difference between fear and love. 

Fear paralyzes you. It makes you forget who you are. It makes you forget how to live.

But love: love gives inhuman strength. Love teaches you who you are, and who you could be, and it teaches you how to be alive. 

Lucifer may have looked like Cas. And there were no words to describe the feeling—being tortured by the same visage as the one he loved. But that had been a pain based on fear. Fear for himself. 

The thought that Lucifer could hurt him again, could use his body again—it seemed insignificant compared to the realization that Cas could die. Right now. 

The fear that had weakened Dean before, turned to rage. His body woke up, and his mind cleared. 

And so Lucifer didn’t know it—but throwing the angel Castiel against the wall was perhaps his biggest mistake yet. 

Dean strained against Lucifer’s hold, teeth gritted. Then Cas’s limp body shifted. It was a subtle movement, almost unnoticeable, but it was enough. Of course, the angel couldn’t have been killed, even with an impact like that. But unconscious... Lucifer could have stabbed him without breaking a sweat. 

Lucifer’s form rippled, and his Castiel imitation was replaced once again with Nick. Gabriel seemed to have frozen—dean could only see his back, but he hoped the trickster had something up his sleeve, or they were all screwed. 

The devil sighed, and squatted next to Cas’s curled body, poking at the angel’s trench-coated back as a child would prod a dozing pet. “Ya know, I’m really not feeling the love here guys.” 

Suddenly, and so quickly Dean almost thought he’d imagined it, Gabriel turned around, a stony certainty on his face, and a whisper, just for Dean: “STALL.” 

Dean glanced at Sam to see if his brother had gotten the message. Sam looked confused, but nodded anyway. If there was anything the Winchester brothers were good at, it was stalling their own deaths. 

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Sam began. 

Lucifer started scrounging through Cas’s coat pockets. “Look pal, I love having these little chats with you and your bro, I really do—“ The devil pulled what looked like a honey-stick out of Cas’s left pocket, sniffed it, and tore open the top. “But I actually don’t love it, and I actually don’t care? All that much?” 

Dean squinted at the honey stick. 

What the fuck

He made a mental note to ask Cas about it later. 

Sam ignored his brother’s weird looks. “How did you get your vessel back?” 

“Oh, this old thing?” Lucifer loudly sucked a bit of honey out of the tube, grimaced and tossed the snack onto the floor, wiping his fingers on his shirt. “I mean... you were the one I really wanted, Sammy—“

Lucifer stood up and turned around, a disgusted look on his face as he searched for something to clean the honey off his fingers. “But—now you’re kinda like the girl... who kept turning me down at prom.   
Here—“

Lucifer walked over to the table and held one sticky finger to Sam’s mouth. Sam grimaced and pulled his head back, revolted. The devil sighed and turned to dean. 

With a snap of the archangel’s fingers, Cas’s body writhed on the floor, spine arching, his hands clawing at his throat.

Lucifer stuck his finger closer to Dean’s face, and winked. “Use your tongue. Or Castiel—well— dies.” 

Dean lifted his head. Humiliation burned like a fever throughout his face. “Go to hell.”

Castiel’s movements began to grow weaker, his gasps turned to silent, breathless gulps. 

So Dean put his mouth around the devil’s fingers, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Cas began to breathe again in rasping coughs. 

Dread filled Dean’s stomach. If Gabriel didn’t think of something fast, he knew now that the devil wouldn’t just kill them. It was apparent from the gleeful, slyness in his tormentor’s eyes, that Lucifer had no intention of letting them die quietly. 

He would use them. He would rip them to shreds from the inside out. Dean was back in Hell: but this time, he wasn’t alone. And somehow, that made it much, much worse. 

Lucifer sighed deeply, as if bored. “You know, guys, this has been fun. It’s like—therapy? But without all the old depressing grannies.” 

He removed his wet fingers from Dean’s mouth and patted the hunter on the head. “Good doggy.” 

“Screw yourself, you evil son of a bitch,” Dean snarled.

“Whoa.” Lucifer held up his hands and frowned. “Ho. Ouch. You sound just like my family. Now THERE’S a bunch of complainers. I tell ya...” 

The devil leaned against the counter, and gestured at Gabriel, who was standing stock-still, fumbling with an angel blade behind his back.

“I mean—YOU remember what it’s like, man. Tons of applause for Team Dad, but whenever I think up an idea it’s always ‘that’s insane, Lucifer,’ or ‘everyone would die, Lucifer,’ or ‘get out of my room, Lucifer, for fuck’s sake.’”

He frowned off into the distance. 

“Uh—just spitballing here, but maybe it’s because all of your ideas were crap and also—oh, yeah—you’re kind of a giant dickwad,” Gabriel said. 

Lucifer snorted and pointed a finger at the other archangel. “Oh as if YOU were any better, Mr. Couldn’t Care Less. You ditched your entire family for a Norse god and a couple-a hookers.” 

Gabriel’s hand flashed out from behind his back, a twisted, tarnished- gold blade clenched between his fingers. 

An archangel blade. 

Gabriel smirked. “Porn stars, bro. They were PORN stars.” 

——————

More coming soon!!! 

:D


	8. Bloody Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel’s plan doesn’t go as he hoped—or does it? 
> 
> The Winchester boys and Cas get their first taste of the Lucifer’s plans.

***Dean’s POV***

Well that was unexpected. 

Enochian sigils flickered subtly amongst the reflections shifting on the twisted blade.

Dean had heard of the archangel blade, but he’d never seen it before. How Gabriel had managed to get his hands on the thing, he had no idea. 

Gabriel squared his shoulders, chin up, and held the gleaming blade out at arms length. 

Lucifer’s faded blue eyes shifted from Gabriel to the blade. “Okay—hold on a second, let’s slow down, man. I’m not the bad guy here.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Riiight. And that’s why Dad put you in the permanent time-out corner.”

Lucifer dropped his hands in frustration. “Oh come on! This again? Aren’t you getting bored with the whole ‘Evil Satan’ thing by now? Gotta hand it to the old man...perfect marketing.” 

He took an angry step forward and leaned toward Gabriel, nearly two inches from his face. “Okay, little known factoid... Pop made me into the fall guy. He MADE me into the all-purpose villain, so he could have someone to—to blame it all on when his ‘masterpiece’ went sour. LIKE it was bound to.” 

Lucifer enunciated each word with a jab to his chest. “I’m. Not. The villain. Pal.” 

Gabriel snorted. “Bitch, please! I don’t care if you think you’re Ghandi from Mt. Olympus, come down to earth to save the Jews.” He pressed the golden blade against Lucifer’s chest, and leaned in closer, head tilted upwards to stare the taller archangel in the eyes. “You’re still a great big bag of dicks, Lucifer. And in the end—Dad was right to lock you up.”

Lucifer’s casual smile faded, eyes darkened. Then before Dean could shout a warning, the devil had grabbed the blade with his hand and twisted it out from under Gabriel’s grasp.

A tip of tarnished-gold blade protruded through the back of the shorter archangel, and Gabriel’s mouth opened in a surprised ‘o’ before he fell backwards next to Dean, his eyes empty. Blank. 

Dean gaped at the dead angel, then closed his eyes in dread. 

Crap. 

Gabriel had been their last hope against the devil. 

It was over. They were screwed. 

Lucifer grimaced and nudged one foot against Gabriel’s body. “Oops. For the record... I did not plan on doing that.”

Reaching down, he slid the tarnished blade out from Gabriel’s chest, and held it between both hands, spinning the sharp tip against one finger.

“Family, am I right though?” He gestured knowledgeably at Sam and Dean. “You guys know what I’m talking about. One minute you’re hugging it out.. and the next you’re killing ‘em.” 

“Go to hell.” 

“Ooh very original Sam.” Lucifer tossed the blade to the ground, and sucked at the small gash in his finger. 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about—With your spice and my snark—we would have been a better god than ol’ Pops ever was. He was just so... lordly, so serious, ALL the TIME!” 

“I never—ever—would have said yes to you, Lucifer.” 

The archangel nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah I know, Sammy, I know. But we could’ve been something, you and me!” Lucifer’s voice grew whiny. Frustrated. Like a spoiled child, Dean thought. “I really wanted that, man!” 

Dean gave the devil a mock look of sympathy. “Didn’t your dad ever tell you you can’t have everything you want? Oh wait—he was the one—who locked you in that cage.”

Lucifer winced. “Ouch. I wouldn’t have said that if I were you, pal.” Picking up the archangel blade once again, he took a step over to Castiel’s still-huddled body, and pulling the angel up by his collar, shoved him against the low table, until Cas’s top half was draped awkwardly against the surface. 

Cas’s hazy blue eyes widened. His face was only a foot or two away from Dean. 

Lucifer bent over Cas and almost seductively scratched a glowing mark in his cheek, eliciting a groan from the angel. 

Dean snarled and threw himself against Lucifer’s hold. It was the worst kind of torture—being RIGHT there, two inches from saving Cas—and watching him being hurt—and he couldn’t do a single thing about it. 

And that son of a bitch knew it. He knew how much it hurt, Dean could see the pleasure on his face. 

Lucifer stopped cutting, and Cas’s cries turned to quiet groans, his face now unrecognizable through the streams of blood. 

The devil dropped the angel to the floor, squinting at Sam. “You’ve been kinda quiet over there, Sammy.”

Sam looked up, his face strained. Dean noticed his hands moving urgently behind his back. 

Lucifer noticed too, and frowned.

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” 

Desperate, Sam’s movements became sloppier. “No—no—nothing.”

Lucifer gave Sam a knowing look, and raised his finger, as if to a naughty child. Then Dean heard a small snapping crack, a gulping groan, and Sam’s eyes bulged. 

“No—you SON OF A BITCH!” 

Sam dragged a shaking hand out from behind his back, and a bloody pocket-knife slipped from his fingers. His BROKEN fingers. 

Lucifer pulled back, resting his weight against the table’s edge, and examined the knife with an amused smile on his face.

“Now what were you gonna do with this?” he asked.

“Screw. You.” Sam spat between thick gasps.

The Devil tilted his head at him. “Come on, Sam. It’s me. You can tell me anything. Pinky promise?” The archangel winced and looked at Sam’s shattered fingers. “On second thought... probably not a great idea.” 

Dean felt a moment of pride as Sam, cradling his shattered finger, sent a wad of spit at the devil’s face. 

The dark angel didn’t seem at all disgusted. He didn’t even bother to wipe it away. Dean’s stomach seemed to be filled with cement.

“Really, Sam? That’s low. Even for you.” The archangel rolled his head in exasperation. “Ugh FINE, look I KNOW what your little finger painting was, alright, man? But your creepy voo-doo magic —“ Lucifer waggled his fingers— “won’t work this time.” 

Dean smirked. “Why? Afraid of a little banishing?” 

Lucifer summoned the archangel blade to his hand while staring hard at Dean. “Oh—no. But, uh—he is.” 

The blade whistled through the air and jammed itself in Cas’s right thigh. The angel had managed to stand back up and had been attempting to draw his own bloody banishing sigil on the wall nearest the door. 

“CAS!” Dean hurled himself at the angel and was surprised to find himself able to move. 

He managed to catch the angel before he hit the floor. 

God. 

Cas’s face was a mess, rivulets of red beginning to matt his dark hair, one wide eye stained red from the leaking blood. Dean could feel the other’s chest heaving against his own, spasms beginning in the impaled leg. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck... Dean had to hand it to the devil. Of all the cards to play—that son of a bitch. 

Because the devil hadn’t missed. He hadn’t wanted Cas to die. He had wanted Cas to live. 

And so Cas was alive. Fatally wounded. Lying beneath the dripping sigil painted in his own blood. 

Banishing the devil was out of the question. 

Because banishing the devil... would mean banishing Cas. And that was something he wouldn’t survive. 

Dean had a pretty good idea of the devils plans. He knew what he was facing. But killing Cas? Well... dean would take all the torture imaginable before THAT happened. 

And the devil knew it. 

—————-

More soon!! :D


	9. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s not dead. 
> 
> Again.

—approximately fifteen minutes earlier—

***Gabriel’s POV****

Gabriel squared his shoulders, chin up, and held the gleaming archangel blade out at arms length. 

It was amazing what a little trickster-archangel-hybrid juice could do to the appearance of a regular-old angel blade. 

Of course he didn’t have an archangel blade. But Lucifer didn’t know that. 

Lucifer’s faded blue eyes shifted from Gabriel to the gold blade. Gabriel was pleased to see a hint of panic in the devil’s expression. 

The devil slowly put his hands behind his head, a theatric gesture that made it look like he was the criminal in one those juicy cop-shows Gabriel used to binge watch when he got low on creative ways to kill dick-wads.

“Okay—hold on a second, let’s slow down, man. I’m not the bad guy here.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. His brother, Lucy the Saint.

“Riiight. And that’s why Dad put you in the permanent time-out corner.”

Lucifer dropped his hands in frustration. “Oh come on! This again? Aren’t you getting bored with the whole ‘Evil Satan’ thing by now? Gotta hand it to the old man...perfect marketing.” 

He took an angry step forward and leaned toward Gabriel, nearly two inches from his face. “Okay, little known factoid... Pop made me into the fall guy. He MADE me into the all-purpose villain, so he could have someone to—to blame it all on when his ‘masterpiece’ went sour. LIKE it was bound to.” 

Lucifer enunciated each word with a jab to his chest. “I’m. Not. The villain. Pal.” 

Gabriel snorted. “Bitch, please! I don’t care if you think you’re Ghandi from Mt. Olympus, come down to earth to save the Jews.” 

Gabriel pressed the fake archangel blade against Lucifer’s chest, and leaned in closer, head tilted upwards to stare the taller archangel in the eyes. “You’re still a great big bag of dicks, Lucifer. And in the end—Dad was right to lock you up.”

Gabriel knew he was taking a major risk here. If Lucifer decided to call his bluff, Gabriel would be forced to stab him—exposing the fake blade. 

Best case scenario: Lucifer believed him and ditched the whole siesta. Easy-peasy like a breezy. 

Worst case scenario: Lucifer decided to turn that sweet sweet work of art against its maker. If that happened....Well... he’d had a lot of practice faking his own death. He could do it again. 

Probably. 

Lucifer’s casual smile faded, eyes darkened.

Aw, raspberries, Gabriel thought. 

He wasn’t gonna lie. 

Having an angel blade impaled through his middle—well, it wasn’t great. Sure it was about as fatal to an archangel as a snapped stick found on the side of a road, but that didn’t mean that HAVING that stick jammed through your meat-suit would feel A-OK. 

Lucifer tipped him backwards with a casual shove of his finger, and Gabriel bent his knees to control the fall. 

Usually, when sensing an up-and-coming death-scene, Gabriel had had a bit of prior knowledge and therefore time, to prepare an illusion. A double, of himself. 

This trick cut back on the major difficulties concerned with faking ones own death: for example, breathing, which was obviously—pardon the pun—a dead-give-away. 

But this time... he’d have to use his back-up method: detracting his consciousness as far back into the meat suit as possible. Tucking himself away, cutting off the bodily necessities, consolidating into his purest form of celestial grace.

It had worked before, and that would have to be good enough. 

And then Dean looked at him. Looked him straight in the eyes. 

And he almost broke. 

Gabriel wanted to get up, he wanted to shout that he was alive, he wanted to punch his dick brother in the face, he wanted to save the Winchesters.

But Lucifer had him trapped between a rock and a hard place. 

If he tried to activate the sigil... well. Sayonara Cassie. 

Gabriel figured Dean wouldn’t be too keen on that option. 

And even though the angel blade hadn’t killed the archangel, it had definitely weakened him—just enough to make beating Lucifer in a fight EXTREMELY unlikely. 

That left only one remaining option. Gabriel would have to lie there on the floor. He would have to wait. Because if his assumptions were correct... 

Sam and Dean would be lucky to make it through the night. 

And if they did live till morning... Gabriel would need to be there for them when it was over. 

So he stayed quiet. And he pretended he was dead. 

And he tried not to listen. 

—————-

More soon! Sorry for the crickets there for a while.... writers block comes for us all :/

Hopefully I’ll be back on track soon! Because this next chapter is going to be PRETT-Y dark.


	10. It All Goes Downhill From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some chit-chat with the devil in a secret bunker’s kitchen with a bloody angel in the corner and a trickster’s still-living corpse on the floor. 
> 
> So basically another regular evening for the Winchester’s :)
> 
> Next chapter promises the dark & dirty, but this chapter is more of a lead-up.

***Dean’s POV***

Lucifer started laughing.

“Oh, man. ‘CAA-AS!!’ I forgot how melodramatic you guys can be. You know, spending all this time chit-chatting with you, and you,” he tilted his head to address Sam as well, “and not trying to kill, or at least MAIM one of you? It was getting exhausting.”

Lucifer unfolded his arms and casually stepped over Gabriel’s corpse.  
Dean cradled Cas’s shuddering body, and watched in horror as the devil clambered onto Sam’s lap, hands on his shoulders. Their noses were barely half an inch apart. Sam tried to jerk back, but the archangel easily gripped the hunter’s other index finger, warning him to stay still. 

Lucifer tapped his own forehead against Sam’s, speaking quietly, thoughtfully, as if deciding what to have for dinner.

“Ya know, I was just going to kill the three of you. Decorate the walls with your guts and all that. But now I’m getting another idea.”

Dean gently laid Cas’s head on the floor, and quietly got to his feet, picking up the archangel blade, but before he could even take a step towards Lucifer, he was thrown against the counter ledge, neck lashing painfully backwards from the impact. 

The blade skittered backwards out into the hall. Out of reach.

Dean groaned, and gritted his teeth until they almost cracked. But it wasn’t the physical pain that was bothering him. 

Lucifer was going to do terrible things. He knew that now. He felt as if he were back in that cavern, back in those chains, but this time Sam, and maybe even Cas, would be forced into the torment as well. Less than 48 hours later, and Dean’s body would have to endure Lucifer’s desires all over again. He didn’t honestly know if he could survive it this time. 

“Ah-ah, Dean,” Lucifer chided, still sitting casually in Sam’s lap. “You, you’re going to stay right there, pal. Same goes for Cassie over there. Don’t know if he can even move, actually.” 

“And if anyone interrupts us...” 

The devil trailed his finger down Sam’s chest. 

“...well...I’ll just kill someone. Someone in this room. And I’ll probably enjoy it.”

Lucifer winked, and pinched his thumb and finger together. “Just a little.”

Dean could see his brothers eyes screwed shut. He could see his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow, and he could see his flannel-covered chest rising and falling sharply in small, uneven breaths. 

Dean’s voice trembled, but he tried his best to sound intimidating. “What are you going to do to my brother?”

Lucifer brought his mouth closer to Sam’s ear, but spoke loudly enough for Dean to hear. “mm—don’t worry—nothing we haven’t already done before.”

Sam swallowed roughly, and his brother frowned, his gaze darting to him.  
“Sam? Sam, what does he mean?”

Sam looked like he would throw up if he tried to speak. 

The devil winced, and looked from Sam to Dean. “Oof. Well this is awkward. Didn’t tell your bro about our special time together in hell, huh? Well, I mean—I’m hurt, Sammy—but....”

Lucifer leaned closer to Sam’s face and kissed him, pulling the hunters bottom lip between his teeth. When he finally let go, Dean could see a quivering drop of crimson spill out the from the inside of Sam’s sensitive lip. 

The devil’s tongue flicked out and caught the drop of blood. “....I guess we’ll just have to try to replicate the heat of the moment, whaddya say, bunk buddy?” 

Sam shook his head in horror, and tried to speak between shaking breaths. “No—no—you’re not gonna—touch me.”

“Mm. Mm-hmm.” Lucifer nodded his head and gave Sam a mocking sympathetic look. “Spoiler alert, Sammy, but...I think I will—have to touch you. Just a little.”

“Take me!” 

The devil turned and faced Dean, eyes squinted. Surprised. Curious. 

Dean felt sick, but it was too late to change his plan now. Saving Sam. That was most important. He strained to keep his voice steady. “Take me. Not Sam.”

Tilting his head, Lucifer slid off Sam’s lap and stalked closer to Dean. The lust was evident in the devil’s eyes. He looked Dean over once, twice, biting his lip. 

“Mm. Gotta say—wasn’t expecting that.” 

“no—Dean—he’s already hurt you,” Sam pleaded. It was clear that he wanted desperately to get up from his chair, to help his brother. 

But they’d both heard the devil. There was no need for Lucifer to even hold them down anymore. If they tried to interrupt, one of them would be killed. 

Lucifer tapped a finger against his chin, and slowly spun on his heels to face Cas, who was still a bloody mess on the floor, although his leg was spasming less now that he had pulled the angel blade out, the silver handle lying curled between his limp fingers. 

“You know what? Sammy’s got a point. In fact—man, am I jazzed! Too many ideas. But I think—“

Lucifer stride over to Cas and yanking him up by his trench coat, threw the angel across the floor towards Dean’s feet. 

“—THIS one’s the winner.” Lucifer grabbed a seat at the table and leaned back, crossing one leg. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and gestured at Dean, who looked utterly confused. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes and gave a vague finger-twirl towards the angel. “Do me one better, man. Show me and Sammy what we missed! A little—PRE-show, to the big finale, how ‘bout it?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked from the devil back to his angel. No—not—he couldn’t mean—not in Cas’s condition. Not here. Not with his brother watching.

Lucifer sensed his unwillingness and frowned. “Fine. I’ll raise the stakes a little, pal. Fuck your angel, and make it sexy—or I kill him. Right here. Right now.” He raised his fingers in a snapping-position, then paused and considered. 

“Oh and—just to make it even more fun...” he winked at Sam across the table. “...you finish? I start fucking your brother.” 

Lucifer grinned at the look on Dean’s face. “Boom! So much for enjoying that big-O, huh buddy? I mean—mm—that sweet moment of release won’t be so great now that it’s the pistol shot to your brothers horse-race.” 

The devil leaned back in his chair, folding his arms comfortably. “And just to clarify—he’s the horse.” 

Dean closed his eyes. Maybe this was some illusion. Maybe it was a djinn or—maybe Lucifer wasn’t even here, maybe he was only manipulating their minds. 

No. Dean knew that wasn’t true. He knew it by the feeling of Cas’s dried blood on his hands. He knew it by the deepening ache in the back of his neck, the ache that only worsened when he knelt down and rolled Cas onto his back and kissed his cracked dry lips as gently as he could manage. 

The devil clapped sarcastically. “Get on with the show, come ONN—this can’t be the best you’ve got, man. Look—even Sam here is getting bored.”

Dean looked up, and read a silent apology in Sam’s horrified face. 

But he was the one who felt guilty. His brother should not have to see this. And yet, he knew if he told him to close his eyes, the devil would do something worse to prevent it. 

So Dean gave in. And as he began unbuttoning Cas’s blood stained shirt, he whispered apology after apology in the broken angel’s ear. 

_I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me I’m so sorry Cas ___

__

__This was real. As real as the cracking bleeding slices on his angels face, just starting to scab over. As real as the hot blood left on his lips after sharing shaky breaths. As real as his nerve-wracked hands, hesitating to touch anywhere on Cas’s shaking body, but knowing he had to._ _

__As real as the knowledge that when this was over, when he had eventually become aroused, when he had forced himself into his wounded angel, when he had cummed inside of him.... it would only be the beginning to the nights tortures._ _

__And so he had to make it last as long as possible. He had to put on a show._ _

__Dean lifted Cas with all his strength, and as he set the angel on the table, he managed to subtly whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry for everything I’m about to do, but you gotta help me out man. Come on Cas.”_ _

__Cas’s blue eyes flickered in understanding and grabbing Dean by his jacket collar, pressed their bloody lips together—Lucifer’s face only a few feet away._ _

__Dean could feel Sam watching as little as possible, but he knew he had to forgive his brother for keeping up appearances. Who knew what the devil would do if Sam granted them even an ounce of dignity._ _

__Cas’s breathing picked up, and Dean felt his stomach turn to sludge. Because as it turned out—Cas was still damn good at kissing, even sliced ‘n diced as he was. Normally this would be an awesome addition to their sex-time—but tonight... he needed to postpone the inevitable as long as humanly possible._ _

__Dean twisted his fingers gently through Cas’s dark hair, trying to give Cas enough breaths between kisses, staring into those sky-blue eyes to check he was still okay—but he could feel himself beginning to harden, pressed against his angel’s thigh._ _

__Lucifer groaned and rolled his head backwards in exasperation. “Aren’t you like the king of pornography, man? ‘Cause this is seriously pathetic.”_ _

__Dean could see Sam tense in apprehension, and with good reason—the devil was obviously annoyed._ _

__Things were not looking good._ _

__Cas was basically dead-weight in his arms, his face a mess of oozing crimson scabs. Angels healed fast, but not fast enough._ _

___Son of a bitch. ____ _

____“Oh my dad,” Lucifer snickered. “You guys really don’t get it, do you?”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Lifting himself casually from his chair, Lucifer thrust his hands in his pockets and stepped around the table, towards Sam. “I hate to do this—I really do? But you guys need some kind of incentive, obviously—to get it up I mean—so...”_ _ _ _

____The devil grabbed Sam’s throat with his hand. Sam choked and violently clawed at the hands locked around his neck, his face turning crimson._ _ _ _

____Dean lunged at the devil, punching him in the face._ _ _ _

____Lucifer looked as if he had been slapped by mildly annoyed kindergartner. He raised an eyebrow and gave Dean a vacant, lazy expression. “Come on, man. Are you really this stupid?”_ _ _ _

____Dean stayed silent, his mind racing, terrified of losing Sam, of hurting Cas—_ _ _ _

____Lucifer nodded his head at Castiel’s weak form hunched on the table. “Either you fuck that pretty-boy angel, or your little bro here literally dies. Like—right now.” Sam’s motions were growing weaker._ _ _ _

____So Dean moved away. Cas looked at him, weariness clouding his blue eyes. There was no choice._ _ _ _

____Dean just hoped Cas could forgive him when this was all over._ _ _ _

____Lucifer seemed almost disappointed to release Sam’s throat. The younger hunter slouched unconscious in his chair, and for whatever reason, Lucifer didn’t try to wake him._ _ _ _

____Dean knew this was probably for the best, and he hated himself for thinking that._ _ _ _

____But it was time to start the show._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____——————_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Next chapter should be here soon!! ;)_ _ _ _

____I meant for this chapter to be THE stuff, but it ended up kinda being a lead-up to the darker & dirtier details coming soon._ _ _ _

____Stay tuned!_ _ _ _


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